


Pretty Boy, I Love You

by sakura_kiss



Series: Pretty Boy, I Love You [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Being gay is accepted, Billy and Steve don't hate each other, Billy is gay but won't accept it, Billy isn't a douche to Max, Domestic scenes, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Honestly act like an old married couple, M/M, Possessive Billy Hargrove, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Steve gets attention from men, Steve has daddy issues and so does billy, Steve is a secret virgin, Steve is lonely, Teen Romance, They're actually pretty friendly, Two lovesick bastards that are too stubborn to realize it, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, but they're in rural Indiana so it's taboo, mentions of child abuse, sad boys being sad together, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_kiss/pseuds/sakura_kiss
Summary: One wink, one wag of the tongue, and Billy could have anyone at his feet. Billy laughed, Billy smirked, Billy drank, Billy smoked. He liked that the attention coated him in an anti-freeze, ignoring the way the cold wrapped around his body.But nothing warmed him up more than one person in particular.----Or, the one where Steve and Billy are unlikely friends, discover a lot about themselves while high, and are totally, definitely, not attracted to one another.





	1. Winter in Hawkins

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if you like this fic and wish to see more of it :) thank you!!

Life in Hawkins was like a desolate wasteland compared to California. Bright, warm, sunny California, where the sun shone everyday and the breeze lifted across the palm trees and cooled the slight sheen of sweat cascading down the back of Billy's neck.  
It was winter in Hawkins and Billy felt like his fingers were going to freeze and snap off. The town was bleak. Businesses were dying like animals on the side of the road and the people were sluggish and pale. The trees turned brown with the changing weather and leaves fell to Billy's feet as he walked to his car in the morning. It was freezing, a to-the-bone type of cold and maybe, if Billy's lucky, he can play off the bruises on his body as early signs of frostbite. But no matter, he wasn't going to let some rundown town kill his spirit. Billy refused to wear more than his blue jeans and his button down shirt, unbuttoned all the way down, even in the face of cold. He knew school wouldn't be any warmer, he learned quickly that his new school was just as rundown and crappy as the town it lives in. But, billy knows it's better than anywhere else, better than his own home at least. Fuck Neil and fuck him for moving the entire family to Hawkins. No, not family, more like hostile cohabitors at this point.

The drive to school was long and winding, roads that cut through tall patches of trees and forest that crunched under his tires. Billy's grip on his steering wheel left him white-knuckled and red palmed. Bracing the cold was almost like an endurance test for Billy. A test of whether or not it'll be the cold that kills him first or Neil. Billy would take the cold anyday. But, Billy knew that once he entered school, he would need to steel his nerves, give the people what they wanted. He changed like a chameleon for them. And what they wanted was the Golden California Adonis. The boy who made girls weak in the knees and gave other boys existential issues. The boy that flirted and fucked and everything in between without so much as batting an eye. The boy who made you feel like the most special person in the world, if only for a second, just to rip it away once you feel hooked. One wink, one wag of the tongue, and Billy could have anyone at his feet. Billy laughed, Billy smirked, Billy drank, Billy smoked. He liked that the attention coated him in an anti-freeze, ignoring the way the cold wrapped around his body.

But nothing warmed him up more than one person in particular. 

\---  
Steve Harrington had built up an empire, only to have it crumble at his feet. King Steve was dead. Dead along with his relationship, dead along with his friends, dead along with the feeling he felt at the pit of his stomach and couldn't get rid of no matter how much he tried. Everyday felt like the same, days meshing together and colliding like leaves in Autumn. He was on auto-pilot, waking up to an empty house, parents gone somewhere for sometime, getting dressed without bothering to look at himself in the mirror because he was afraid of what he would see, getting into his car and driving off to school where his brain was melted until the next day, come home, get drunk or high or whatever came first, and then go to bed. Sure, sometimes he would see the kids, the hordes of children that followed him around and gave him the title of 'den mother'. They kept him company sometimes, but soon had to hurry home for their curfews, leaving Steve alone once more. It was sad to say that the only thing that broke his humdrum routine was the inference of a certain long-haired delinquent. Funnily enough, Billy was the closest thing that Steve had to a best friend at this point. Billy was almost like a constant in Steve's ever-changing life. 

The two weren't close in an orthodox way, not like the way best friends were supposed to be. They were rude to each other, crude comments and venom tongues. Teasing insults hurled around that held no real weight. The two boys pretended like the other wasn't the highlight of their day. Their relationship consisted of getting drunk or high, talking about whatever came to mind at the moment. In school, they were almost strangers to each other, passing by in the hallways like two ships in the night. But when the final bell rang, when school was over and everyone scurried out as fast as they could, Billy and Steve were as thick as thieves. It was an unlikely friendship, but after getting drunk one fateful night at the same house party and talking in an empty bedroom doubling as a coat room, the two had felt a sort of kinship. Sure, at first Billy had felt threatened by King Steve. He wanted to knock him down a peg, show him who truly was king of the school. But once Billy had seen the true Steve Harrington behind the bloated egos and golden dipped rumors, Billy had seen someone he truly felt was a real person. 

Billy walked through the halls of Hawkins' high school with a swagger that turned heads. The girls muttered with excitement at the sight of Billy and whispered into each other's ears. Billy preened at them, throwing them a wink and a smile. He exudes machismo, something that he picked up from years of Neil bootcamp. He was elusive, someone no one could keep down or tame. A god amongst men and Billy strutted through the halls like he owned them. 

One turn of his head and he found Steve at his locker. Their eyes met briefly. They passed each other. That's as much interaction as they would have until the end of the day, when both boys could shrug off their facades and be themselves. Both of them counted down the hours until then.  
\---

Steve was late. Billy waited by his Camero, leaning back with arms crossed, acting as if the cold wasn't seeping into his body and raising the hairs on his skin. He was impatient, his temper beginning to thaw him out the longer he had to wait. He watched as the brunette stumbled out from the school's double doors, wrapped up in a thick sweater and scarf wrapped around his neck. Billy rolled his eyes and opened the passenger seat door, watching as the boy flew in a whirl of cotton and yarn. Billy shut the door loudly, the rusty pile of junk that was his car squeaked as it closed. Billy came around to the driver's seat and quickly pulled himself inside, closing the door and starting the emission. 

"You're late, princess." 

"Don't fucking call me that." Steve huffed as he began unraveling his scarf and leaning back against the worn car seat.

Billy smirked fondly, pulling out from the parking lot and driving towards the road. He understood why Steve would be upset with such a nickname. Billy was familiar with terms like "princess", "sissy", "nancy boy", mostly from the mouth of none other than his father. They were meant to degrade and break down his spirit, emasculate him and reduce him to a shattered person. But that's not necessarily how Billy meant it when it came to Steve. It was a nickname that suited Steve. At first, it had been a term used out of spite and anger, but soon Billy found it to be a term of endearment. Steve wasn't just some rich kid and after spending so much time with him, Billy thought he was more like a Disney princess than a spoiled brat. Steve still protested the name, insisting that he hated it and implored Billy to stop, but it was one of the few times that Billy caught a quick smirk from Steve that kept him from dropping the name. 

They drove to Steve's house in silence, the only noise coming from the stereo of the car. Billy insisted they listened to rock music as they drove ("My car, my music, Harrington") Steve didn't put up too much of a fight. 

Billy pulled into Steve's driveway, behind the house and out of sight, got out of the car and followed Steve inside the empty house. It always amazed Billy how rich Steve actually was. He once tried to ask what his parents did for a living and all he got in response was a list of complex business jargon and no real response. ("Your parents sound like jerk-offs, no offense." "None taken, they are jerk-offs") Billy kicked off his shoes, making sure they didn't track dirt into the pristine white carpeting as they climbed the stairs to Steve's room. Usually, Billy would rather die than be caught going into another man's room, alone and unguarded. In fact, he still is rather uneasy about their little arrangement. Always making sure they avoid popular roads and avoiding eye contact with anyone they might know. Even the idea that Billy Hargrove might be queer was enough to make him so paranoid that he still draws the curtains on the windows of Steve's bedroom. 

Steve flopped onto the bed and sighed, reaching over to his bedside table to retrieve a small baggie of blunts and a lighter. He lit one and inhaled, eyes closing slowly as he exhaled the smoke and laid back onto the bed. Billy watched with cautious eyes. He surveyed Steve's face, taking in each curve and line. He understood why the girls liked Steve, after all. He was attractive to say the least, a good looking guy and overall, he was pretty. The word curled around Billy's mind like the smoke in the air. He wasn't like Billy in that sense. No, Billy was all straight lines and hard bodied. Steve was...softer. Softer features and softer lines. Billy's skin was golden tanned from the sun exposure in California. It was a light caramel that only accentuated his broad body and gave him a hearty and healthy glow. Steve was paler, white skin that looked milky, like cream and littered with little beauty marks that were hidden from the public eye but sometimes, just sometimes, Steve's shirts rode up just enough for Billy to catch a glimpse of his back. Billy's eyes, while beautiful like the ocean, were smaller and sharper than Steve's who's eyes resemble something like a doe, innocent and mocha brown. 

But not that Billy was paying attention or anything. 

"Man, are you gonna share or what?" Billy complained as he snatched the blunt away from Steve and took a puff for himself, feeling himself calm down almost immediately. 

"Hey!" Steve whined, taking it back. "Find your own weed," he quipped with a smirk, teasing in a way that Billy really wished he wouldn't. 

Billy snorted as he plopped down next to Steve, making the bed shake a little around them. He spread his body out, arms behind his head and legs becoming dangerously close to Steve's. "Damn, don't get all greedy on me, princess. Besides, weren't you banging that bitch that had a hook up? Sandy? Candy? Damn, I don't know," Billy laughed as he took the blunt that Steve offered to him after he took his turn. 

"Her name was Cindy and I wasn't banging her." 

"Riiiiight, I forgot, you haven't gotten laid since you broke up with that Wheeler chick," Billy licked his lips, eyebrows wagging at Steve in a lewd manner. Steve felt his entire body flair up and Billy watched as creamy skin went pink. 

"We didn't… I didn't...shut the fuck up, asshole!" Steve stuttered out, sitting up, fingers gripping the bed sheets. Billy was a bit surprised at the sudden reaction, not expecting Steve to explode in such a way. It made Billy...curious to say the least. 

"Damn, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," he responded back, rolling his eyes at Steve's tantrum. "I forgot that you're such a stuck up little princess sometimes." 

"I told you to fucking stop calling me that," Steve muttered under his breath, face burned red. Billy had to admit that it was cute the way Steve got worked up over certain things, the way he exasperated himself over nothing. He knew Billy meant the nickname out of friendliness, and he knew Billy knew that. 

"Whatever," Billy muttered and closed his eyes, enjoying the lull of peace that washed over him as the weed took affect. He felt the mattress dip down next to him and realized Steve was laying down again, next to Billy. 

They spent the rest of the night smoking, eating whatever they could find in the house, watching shitty movies and making fun of them. It was nice. It was a typical teen guy hangout session. It was something Steve hadn't had in a long time. Steve walked Billy to the door when they realized it was much later than they thought it was. Billy turned around to Steve before he left. 

"You're going to Jessica's party on Friday, right?" 

Steve hadn't even known Jessica was throwing a party on Friday, but he laughed awkwardly and nodded. "Yeah, o-of course I'm going." 

"Cool. See you there then." And like that, Billy was gone. Steve closed the door and went upstairs to his room. He sighed, laying back down on his bed and nuzzling his face into the pillows, allowing a tired sigh to escape his lips. The pillows smelled faintly of weed and Billy's cologne. 

Steve wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, again.


	2. Jessica's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Steve have small revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :) ( ◜‿◝ )♡

It's Friday night at Jessica's house and Steve doesn't know why he even bothered with high school parties anymore. It's not like he had anyone to go with. He stayed in the corner of the living room, leaning against the wall and lazily sipping his now lukewarm beer. The music was too loud, it hurt Steve's ears and made his stomach jump in tandem to the beat. The view before him was a voyeuristic scene, bodies pressed against each other and swaying to the music, spilled alcohol on the floor and little white and red pills were passed around, either hand to hand or mouth to mouth. A year ago, Steve would have joined in the festivities, in fact, he'd probably be in the center of it. But that was then and this is now and right now, Steve just wanted to go home. No one paid much mind to the dethroned king of the school, passing by him as if he were a ghost from the past. Fine by Steve, he welcomed the non-attention. He was content playing spectator to the debauched scene before him. His detachment to the haze of the party left him clear minded, unusual for his otherwise always foggy state of being. 

The crowd parted like the Red Sea and in came Billy Hargrove and his band of misfits. Billy was popular and Steve knew this. It was hard to ignore the Californian bad boy that blew into Hawkins like a hurricane. His name was on the tip of everyone's tongue and Steve watched as girls threw themselves at him, hoping to get a chance at being the lucky girl of the night that steals Billy's attention away. Funny enough, Billy had his eyes locked on the brunette before him. He shrugged off girls left and right, fighting through the crowd to stand before Steve, pressed against a corner and protected in his observance. 

"Well, looks like you actually came, Harrington," Billy smirked, toothpick bobbing in his mouth and hand over Steve's head, boxing him in further and invading his once personal haven from the party. Steve could feel the warmth radiating from Billy's body, chest heaving as he breathed in and out as peered down at Steve with a cheshire grin. Steve felt sweat began to trick down the back of his neck, his stomach tightening as the boy came closer to him, blue-grey eyes piercing through the haze and smoke of the party to make Steve feel like someone was stabbing him in the chest. Steve took a sip of his beer and shrugged, "I said I would, didn't I?" He tried to remain cool, nonchalant even as Billy leaned in further, closer and closer until he could feel the hot breath fanning against his neck. It made Steve's grip on his red solo cups tighten. Their eyes met and the air around them was electrically charged, the party around them began to fade out in Steve's mind. 

"Better get going, Harrington. Or I'll snatch up all the bitches here," Billy drawled, his tongue wetting his lips and smirk widening as he watched Steve's pupils blow out. The comment was meant to be a tease, no real malice behind the words, but the underlying threat made goosebumps appear on Steve's skin. Billy swaggered off, arms reaching out to grab at a girl's waist and bring her closer. Bodies colliding and swaying to the music and Steve was left winded, fingers crushing his cup and cheeks hot. The rivalry between Billy and Steve was harmless, not meant to be taken seriously and anything more than a silly and childish competition. But when Billy talked to Steve like that, and looked at him the way he did, Steve couldn't help but want to sweep the floor with him, show him why he was King in the first place. His ego wounded, his guts churning. So Steve began to survey the living room, looking for anyone, someone to flirt with, to dance with, to wrap his arms around and fade into the night. 

They came unexpectedly, when Steve's eyes broke away from the crowd to look down at his phone, to respond to a text from Dustin. 

"Wanna dance?" The voice was deep. Too deep for any girl, deeper than Steve's voice even. Steve's eyes blinked upwards from his glowing screen and in front of him was a looming figure. 

The man was about 6'2, good build and dark brown eyes. If you asked Steve a week later, he'd say he didn't remember what his name was, or what exactly he looked like. What was important was that he was a man and Steve was a man and 2019 hadn't yet hit Hawkins, Indiana. Steve remembers he was attractive, nice smile and strong arms. And he doesn't know if it was the beer, he doesn't know if it was the music, or the lights, or the fact that Billy was currently staring at the girl hanging off him like she was a piece of meat, but something told Steve /Go! Do it! Be brave!/ He knew people would talk about this in school on Monday and he knew it shouldn't be a bigger deal than it was, but here he was, here Steve was, and Steve smirked slyly and nodded. "Yeah, let's dance." 

Steve made his way with...whatever his name was towards the crowd and suddenly Steve was swept up into strong arms and it made his entire body stiff and ache. Steve had always been the boy-next-door. The boy who was the class president, the boy who was beloved by mothers, the boy who dated the head cheerleader and they're the couple that made other couples jealous. Steve was used to being the strong one, the one who wrapped arms around his date's waist and pulled his partners closer. But right now, Steve felt two arms snake around his waist and pulled him in, flush against a man's chest and suddenly Steve began to feel small...smaller than he's ever felt before. The two began to move, hips swaying and hands slowly moving to Steve's hips. Steve shyly laced his own arms around the man's neck, holding on and gripping his shirt. 

Oddly enough...Steve liked it. He liked the feeling of being surrounded by strong arms and pressed against a hard chest. It was comforting, something he usually had to provide for a girl. It was different. Different than anything he's ever experienced. He began to loosen up, body moving to the rhythm of the music and soft cheek rubbed against prickly beard. It was dark, a throng of bodies rubbing against each other and Steve had found himself intoxicated by the haze. His eyes felt heavy, as heavy as the hands that gripped his hips. Steve blinked them open again and his eyes met the ocean, blue-grey staring at him from across the dance floor and anchoring him. His body went stiff and alerted his partner. 

It took Billy 3.6 seconds to cross the crowd and pull the two apart. 

"What the fuck man! We were in the middle of something here!" The man yelled and Steve's wrist was grabbed, pulled away from his mystery man and dragged through the hordes of bodies. He didn't try to stop Billy as he led him forcefully outside, he didn't try to stop him when the two crossed the threshold of Jessica's house and walk towards Billy's car. But as the two came closer and closer, Steve finally planted his heels down in the ground and Billy whipped around at him at the first feeling of resistance. 

"What are you doing?!" Steve yelled, breath coming out in cold puffs of steam in the air. 

Billy's facial expressions were unreadable. His eyes searched Steve's and he swallowed tightly. "I wanted to leave," he muttered out, grip still tight on Steve and they didn't have time to notice that Billy's hand was able to wrap entirely around Steve's wrist. 

"So?? Doesn't mean I wanted to leave??"

"I'll take you home. It's getting late." 

"What the fuck, Hargrove. I was danci-"

"I know what you were doing. I know." Billy's breathes were erratic and labored, his chest heaving and eyes blown. He groaned and turned towards his car, slamming his fist down softly, noncommittal. Steve knew it was pain etched onto Billy's face. He decided not to question any further and quietly got into the car.  
\---

They were silent as they walked up to Steve's bedroom. Steve sat down on his bed, watching as Billy stood in the middle, staring back at him. 

"Why did you do that?" 

"I was tired." 

"Cut the bullshit already, Hargrove." 

Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Not everything is about you, princess." The term of endearment felt sour on Billy's tongue. 

"I told you..to Stop. fucking. Calling me. That," Steve growled, standing up from his bed abruptly, his chest puffing up and slowly walking towards Billy, fists clenching. Billy sneered at the sight, "Well you certainly looked like a precious princess tonight, those were some nice moves out on the dance floor." Billy shot back, eyes beady, viper-like tongue dripped venom, smirk plastered on his face. Steve, tensions risen and anger coursing through him, attempted his luck at fate and pushed Billy's chest away, trying to add space to them. Billy laughed with disbelief as he practically charged at Steve, watching as doe eyes widened. The two of them fumbled onto the bed, Steve wriggling to get away from Billy's grasp. Pushing, shoving, grabbing, pulling. Billy had Steve under him, straddling his waist (thin hips, small waist, like the dolls Maxine used to have). With one hand, Billy gripped both of Steve's wrists and pinned them above his head. Steve struggled from underneath and tried to kick Billy's body off of him. 

"Don't fucking test me, Harrington. I'll fucking kill you," Billy growled, hot breath hitting Steve's face as he leaned inwards. Steve was panting, out of breath from their wrestling, and vulnerable underneath Billy's weight. The two stared at each other, ocean met mocha. Steve's lips turned into a small smirk. "Then go ahead, Hargrove. Take a swing." 

Billy's pupils were blown as he stared, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took in Steve's limp form underneath him. It scared him, the way his heart was pounding in his chest and in his ears, feeling his entire body buzz. Billy's eyes flickered up and down Steve's face, from his doe eyes to his plush lips, bitten and raw. The buzzing went straight down to Billy's-

"Are you a fucking bitch? Come on, asshole. Hit me!" 

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned back, releasing Steve's wrists (he would have bruises later, dark purple ones that Steve would look at for a week). "I'm not that much of an asshole to hit a chick," Billy muttered, sitting up and rolling off of Steve's hips and off the bed. 

"Fuck you."

"Whatever, pretty boy." 

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

Steve's bedroom door swung open and slammed shut, leaving Steve alone in his room, panting and heart racing. He looked down at his wrists and noticed the red finger marks in his skin. He remembered the weight of Billy on top of him. Strong arms, hard chest. 

Billy practically ran outside and to his car. His heart was beating out of his chest and his mind was spinning. He couldn't tell if he wanted to vomit or scream or punch a brick wall. He couldn't tell if he wanted to kill Steve Harrington or...or… Billy couldn't get the image of Steve's face out of his mind. Wide doe eyes, bitten lips. 

Billy started his truck up and drove off.


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Steve have a soft moment. Things come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)

For Billy, a night of peaceful sleep was hard to come by. It was hard when his nightmares seemed to transcend the unconscious realm and appear in front of him, alive and very much real. Neil had released his torrent of pain again today, leaving Billy to bite his lip and stay quiet while Neil screamed at him for whatever the fuck the reason was this time Billy watched his step-mother turn her head away from the scene, out of sight and out of mind. Max simply ran upstairs to her room, shutting the door behind her so loudly that Billy could hear it from downstairs. The lack of response and focus from Billy had stirred more anger in Neil and soon Billy's cheek bloomed purple and black and blue, a bouquet of deadly flowers that marred his skin. 

It was bullshit, this was all such bullshit. Billy was going to be 18 soon and the minute the clock struck, he would be out of here. Out of this nightmare and out of Hawkins Fucking Indiana. He would pack his bags and leave, where? Who the fuck knows. Anywhere but this godforsaken place. And as Billy laid in his bed that night, staring up to his ceiling and trying to ignore the throbbing of his cheek, Billy planned his escape. It would be in the middle of the night, in order to avoid unnecessary goodbyes and tears. He would hop into his car and drive as far as he could. That thought alone was the only thing that kept Billy in town, the fact that he could leave at anytime. 

Well, that and a princess. 

During times like these, Billy had grown accustomed to sneaking out of the house in the dead of night. He'd start up his car as quietly as he could and drive off into the night with only one destination in mind.   
\---

Steve opened the door with droopy eyes and tousled hair. It was approximately 3 am and he had been sleeping since midnight. He stood in front of Billy, leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a white undershirt and black boxers that seemed to hug his hips in the most incredible way. The boy before him was soft in a different way than he usually was sober and awake. He was unguarded, vulnerable to the world before him. His eyes opened slightly, adjusting to the street lights to take in the person in front of him. Steve's eyes roamed Billy's body and then landed on Billy's face, looking at the deep purples, blues, and blacks. Whenever Billy appeared at his door in the middle of the night, unannounced and unspoken, Steve knew what it meant. It was an unspoken understanding in their friendship. It was a time where neither or them needed to say anything to the other. No sassy quips, no stinging insults or empty threats. It was just them, tired and in need of a calm sleep. 

Steve sidestepped to allow Billy into his home. Steve's parents had sent their regards through postcard, apparently they were currently in Aruba. How lovely for them. Billy followed Steve upstairs, the way they had always been, and Steve simply laid back onto his bed, slipping under the covers and allowing an exhale of a breath as he closed his eyes once more and nuzzled in closer to his pillow.   
Billy looked down at Steve as he slept. The scene was simple, innocent and not meant for further analysis. But to Billy, it was as rich as a Renaissance painting. So, Billy began to strip down as well, pulling off his shirt to leave him bare chest and unbuckling his belt, quietly setting it down on the side table. He undid his jeans and slid them off, kicking out of them as he sat down on the side of the bed, pulling up the covers and settling underneath them. 

Sure, there had been plenty of rooms to choose from in Steve's home, but nothing lulled Billy to sleep like the feeling of Steve's bed. He felt his eyes become heavy, fighting to stay awake. He couldn't sleep on his side, like he usually did, for his cheek ached and the pain would only intensify. So Billy remained on his back, feeling his body become dead weight and slip into unconsciousness. He glanced over to the boy next to him. Steve had his back towards Billy and Billy watched as his body rose and fell gracefully with each breath. The motion was soothing and sooner or later, Billy was dreaming.   
\---  
Saturday mornings were always a toss up for Billy. Usually, he'd either find himself in his own bed, sweating and panting from a nightmare that felt all too real or in the bed of a stranger in a room he didn't recognize, a reminder from the festivities of the night before. This time, when Billy woke up, he recognized the room he was in, but it wasn't his room. It took Billy less than a minute to understand the circumstances he was in and decide yes, he was in Steve Harrington's room, yes he had come here in the middle of the night, and yes, he did sleep over. Billy tried to move his body, wishing to crack and stretch every bone in his body after such a comfortable and long sleep. The birds outside were chirping softly and the light filtered through the white sheer drapes around the windows. Billy squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, pushing himself forward to sit up, only to feel something heavy on top of him. 

Somewhere during the night, Steve had rolled into Billy's space, nuzzled into his chest and legs intertwined. To Billy's surprise, his own arm was wrapped around a lithe waist, comfortable and snug. The closeness was not new for the two. It wasn't as if this was the first time they'd woken up in such a position. In fact, it seemed that every time Billy came over, he'd wake up to find them somehow tangled with each other in one way or another. The warmth radiating off of Steve's body was pleasant and the small breaths that hit Billy's neck were nothing to be too upset about. It was an innocent action for them, one that came from a content sleep. 

Billy attempted to slide himself out of Steve's grasp, but only managed to wake the sleeping beauty. Steve's eyes cracked open and he blinked once, twice, and fluttered his long eyelashes. With a small yawn and a full body stretch, not unlike a cat, Steve sighed and sat up from Billy's hold. He looked down at the boy under him, rubbed his eyes, and simply sat up from the bed, wandering out of the bedroom like a sleepy zombie and into the adjoining bathroom, where he closed the door, leaving Billy alone with his thoughts. 

The scene played out almost domestically. Leaving Billy alone in bed, feeling the shared warmth they once created disappear and leave behind a cold reminder of the body that once inhabited it. Billy heard the faucet running, Steve was probably washing up. He'd use the blue toothbrush (next to the red one that was reserved for Billy and Billy only) and brush his teeth. Billy heard the shower and knew Steve was hopping in, probably using the expensive and sweet smelling shampoo that got his hair the perfect way it always was (next to the only Billy uses the one for men that Steve insisted smelled god awful, but for some reason was tolerable when Billy used it). While the shower ran, Billy began to collect his clothing, slipping them back on. 

Steve came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. There was a towel wrapped around his waist and Billy had to take a minute to admire his body. It was pale, like it had never been touched by the sun or..or fresh cream from the cows that lived in the nearby farms. His body was littered with little beauty marks that seemed to appear in random spaces. His chest was soft looking, not built and broad like Billy's had been. Billy's eyes wandered down to his chest, to his stomach, to the V shape that his hips made. 

"I'll make breakfast." It was the first words spoken between the two since yesterday. "Just let me get dressed first." 

This was Billy's cue to leave the premises, to allow Steve to drop his towel and be alone for the first time since last night. Billy felt his cheeks go hot for a second as he sat up and walked out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. Billy tried to pretend like he didn't know that Steve was naked upstairs, tried to pretend like his body wasn't growing hot at the idea of it and wasn't feeling anxious and antsy. He grabbed the fridge handle and threw it open, grabbing a carton of milk and drinking straight from the spout, an action that resulted in multiple-

"That's disgusting, use a fucking cup." 

Multiple scoldings. 

Billy put down the milk jug and wiped his lips, looking at the boy before him. Steve had changed into sweatpants and a sweater, comfortable and cozy for a day that Billy presumed would be spent indoors. It suited him, suited his softer-than-life attitude. 

"It looked like it snowed..overnight" Steve hummed as he went back to the fridge and pulled out eggs and bacon. "Will your car be ok?" 

"Don't worry so much." Billy responded, his voice raspy from sleep and unuse. "If it's stuck under snow, I'll just shovel it out." Billy turned his head slightly to look out the window. The outside world looked like a winter wasteland, covered in snow and bleakness. It was bucolic in a way, idyllic and reminiscent of Christmas postcards with log cabins in the background. Billy heard Steve turn on the TV in the background, turn on the weather channel to hear that it snowed almost 8 inches last night and to stay inside if possible. 

Fuck, Neil is going to have a field day if Billy's not home by dinner. He pulled out his phone to text Max that he would be out all day, that he might not even be home for dinner because he'll be busy, to tell Neil that he'll be home by tomorrow. 

"You can stay here if you want," Steve said as he cracked eggs into a sizzling pan of oil. It sounded more like a request than a suggestion and he turned around to hear the answer. For the first time, Steve fully looked at Billy in the light of day. His eyes roamed to his face, to his cheek more specifically. It seemed that his request was more a demand. Billy shrugged and nodded, "Yeah, whatever. Just until I can get my car out." (As if he hadn't told his family that he would be out all day). 

Steve smiled (Billy held his breath) and nodded, turning back to the eggs. Billy watched as Steve cooked, watched him flit around the kitchen as if he was born to be there. It always ended up like this whenever Billy came unannounced to the Harrington residence. They woke up, came downstairs, and played some unspoken version of pretend "house". The Harrington household had always felt like an isolated area for the two. A place where they didn't need to build up their pretend personalities. They could just...be. The words were kinder and the jokes were funnier and the teasing was more playful. It was just them. And suddenly, Neil seemed really small in comparison. 

"You know, you'd totally be my wife in this situation." 

Steve whipped his head around and scoffed, "Fuck you," he laughed, "You can go hungry then." 

"I mean it in the nicest way possible~" Billy drawled, watching as Steve plated two meals and placed one in front of Billy. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. An ideal American breakfast. 

"You'd be a terrible husband," Steve retorted, pouring himself a cup of juice and sitting back down. "You'd probably be the worst husband in the history of husbands." 

"I resent that you know! I'd be a great husband. All sensual and shit. Real 'man-of-the-house' vibes, ya know?" Billy began to rip into his meal, speaking with his mouth open, cheeks stuffed. Steve rolled his eyes and couldn't help the little smile that formed across his lips. "Well, good luck to whatever lucky girl is your wife." Steve took a sip of his drink and licked his lips, "It's the 21st century, remember? That whole 'man-of-the-house' bullshit is totally not cool. All that stupid fucking macho bullshit is so 1950s." 

"Don't act like you wouldn't love it, sweetheart," Billy smirked, winking at Steve which made his heart skip a beat for..whatever reason. He looked down at his food, trying to will his cheeks from not turning rosy pink. He could practically feel Billy's eyes on him, that smirk that burned his skin. 

"Admit it Harrington, you're totally my bitch." 

"In your dreams, Hargrove."   
\---

The rest of the day played out like their hangout sessions always did. They ate snacks and listened to music and watched TV and movies and got drunk until they were a laughing giggling mess. It was almost Christmas time in Hawkins and the TV was showing reruns of Christmas movies 24/7. They had gotten through "A Charlie Brown Christmas", "A Miracle on 34th Street", and "Elf" before they decided to crack open the wine. 

"So tell me, Harrington. You've been single for like...not one..not two..not three, but FOUR months and you've STILL haven't banged a chick. What gives?" Billy was laying on the floor, tipsy and warm from the Bordeaux. He looked up at Steve, who was laying on the couch. 

Steve sighed and pushed himself forwards. "That's none of your...none of your business, Hargrove," he slurred back. Steve was a lightweight, Billy learned quickly. 

"Well, when I hear my arch nemesis isn't getting any pussy, it really worries me, ya know?" It was a tease, an exaggeration, an entire lie. 

"Oh, why thank you for your grand concern~" Steve laughed airy and breathy, taking a swig from the bottle of wine. "How thoughtful of you." 

"Yeah, I'm a nice guy, what can I say? So what's the deal?" 

Steve grew quiet. After no response for a minute or two, Billy craned his neck upwards, looking at Steve on the couch with curious eyes. Steve was staring back at him, biting his bottom lip. "Can you keep a secret?" 

The question was loaded, hot and tingling. It made Billy's stomach twist and his pupils widen. Of course he could keep a secret, depending on the secret. His eyes searched Steve's face, looking for a hint of what this secret could be. "Of course, princess." 

Steve rolled his eyes and sat up. He scooted closer to Billy, sighing. "Listen..I've been really...it's just...I don't know.." the words were strained and Billy became impatient. 

"Spit it out, Harrington!" 

"Ithinkimightbegay" 

The words whizzed by Billy's ears, his mind went blank and he needed to breakdown each word bit by bit. He stared at Steve, blank faced and mouth dry. "What?"

"I think...I think I'm gay?" 

Yeah, that's what Billy thought Steve had said. 

"But I….I thought you and Nancy." 

"Yeah...well...it's complicated. I don't think I ever felt...happy with her. I mean I loved her and she was my best friend (that mildly hurt Billy), but I don't think I was ever IN love with her." 

Billy needed to wrap his mind around this. It wasn't like he didn't know gay people existed. Of course they did. Practically half the guys in California were gay. But this was Indiana and Billy is just...surprised he supposed. Surprised? Maybe not surprised. Deep down, Billy probably knew. Steve was his (best friend? Soulmate? Everything?) friend. It was just ...hearing it out loud...spoken out in the air. If Neil was here, he'd be disgusted, totally and utterly. He'd scream, yell, gnarled and angry. He'd call Steve every name under the Sun. But would Billy? Would Billy sling those hurtful and cruel words? He watched Steve's face. It was filled with worry, waiting to see Billy's reaction to such news. 

So Steve liked dudes. That's fine. So he liked guys and what's wrong with that? (A lot of things, Neil would say. Things that warrant a beating, more than a beating.) Steve is gay and this is fine. Steve is gay and Billy was fine. Billy is straight (?) And Steve is gay and that's fine. 

"Well...say something!" 

Billy hadn't realised he was staring at Steve, mouth ajar. He coughed and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "W-well, more girls for me then," Billy felt the laugh come out strained, forced and weak. Billy watched Steve's body relax and slump slightly, a smile crawling onto his face as he rolled his eyes at the comment. It made Billy's stomach flutter. His eyes widened as he watched Steve crawl closer and suddenly he was wrapped in a hug. Steve nuzzled his face into Billy's neck and whispered something that sounded like 'thank you'. Billy, slow and cautious, wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling him closer. His heart hurt. His stomach twisted. 

"You're welcome."


	4. Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's jealousy is showing and Steve is having a hard time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Billy doesn't know what he was expecting when he came into school on Monday. He doesn't know why he expected Steve to be...different? Flamboyant and energized and wearing bold colors and looking stereotypically /gay/. He doesn't know why he was expecting Steve to change now that he's divulged certain information to Billy. But when Billy came into school, he was mildly surprised to see that Steve hadn't changed all that much. He still wore the same wool sweaters and skinny jeans. He still had the same bewildered "doe in the headlights" look on his face. He still ignored Billy the way he always has whenever they were in school. In school, they remained strangers to each other. It was better this way, Billy reasoned to himself. What they had was good and what was the point of ruining it by adding drama. Billy hadn't seen any need to interfere with the natural flow of their relationship.   
\---

Billy and Steve only shared one class together. Mrs. Flemming's English literature class had been the only time in which the two were in the same place at the same time, repeatedly. It was the only class that Billy truly gave his full attention. As a kid in California, Billy's mother, his real and true mother, had been an avid fan of poetry, often reading to Billy by the ocean side. It was a fond memory safely tucked into the recesses of his mind, one that Neil could never destroy or ruin (He had said poetry was for faggots and Billy ran home to search what that word had meant. Afterwards, he promised to never read poetry in front of his father again). Her favorite had been "Annabelle Lee" by Edgar Allen Poe. She must have read it to Billy over one hundred times and Billy could practically recite it by heart. So when Mrs. Flemming told her class that for their final project they were expected to choose a work from one of the poets they had studied and write their own version of it, Billy had felt that he had this in the bag. 

It wasn't until Mrs. Flemming added that it was a partner project that Billy had began to feel the whips of panic. Partner projects were always a tricky situation for Billy. He could never usually bring school friends home, lest they fall prey to the clutches of Neil. Billy had never been exactly a team player, preferring to work by himself than have to play nice with some random kid that he's never talked to in his life. Perhaps he could away Mrs. Flemming to let him work by himself. Bat his eyes and flash a smile and make her melt and lay on the charm-

"Billy Hargrove with ...Steve Harrington" 

The wind was knocked out of Billy's chest as he glanced across the room to see that Steve had been staring back at him. A small smile crawled across Steve's lips and Billy felt his throat tighten. Partnered with Steve? This wasn't so bad. Not at all. Steve was his friend and Billy had always found it easy to talk to Steve. Steve had always given Billy a warm and fuzzy feeling deep down in his gut that both scared Billy and intrigued him. It was feelings he could never vocalize, feelings that he could never analyse further or act upon. He was confused by them. They were feelings that kept him awake at night and left him in a cold sweat. He didn't know how to stop them or control them and they left him shaking in his bed. He had felt this way before. He knows he has. Small smiles, casual glances, he had them all before with girls in his class. Billy didn't know how to define them. They were hot and cold and slippery and yet so heavy they felt as if they were suffocating. These feelings left Billy with his brain feeling foggy and twisted and his body feeling heavy and dead. 

He looked across the room towards Steve's seat once more and Billy's pupils shrank like a wolf staring at the face of a competitor. It took all of Billy's strength not to bare his teeth and growl at the sight of Steve talked to Samuel Fischer, the boy sitting next to him. Sam had been deemed by the girls as one of the more attractive boys in the school with styled blond hair and striking blue eyes that left all the girls melting like jelly. If you asked Billy, he would say they were a bit dead, a bit glassy and fishlike. Steve was a generally kind person, a person that others enjoyed talking to. It was a quality that boosted his popularity as ruler of the school. Billy knew that Steve was probably just being friendly. Probably picked up Sam's dropped pencil and was simply returning it to him. Before being told about Steve's certain inclination towards the same sex, Billy would have shrugged off and disregarded the interaction all together. But now that he knows, now that he is certain, Billy couldn't help but stare as Steve smiled up at Sam and Sam smiled back in return. Billy felt the cold and slimy vines of resentment and could it be? Could it possibly be /jealousy/? Wrapped around his core and choke him. Who was Samuel Fischer, anyways? Billy's never seen Steve talk to him before? What, were they suddenly best friends? Billy was being replaced in Steve's life by some ken doll. No, not on Billy's watch. Sam wasn't even that attractive, what could Steve possibly see in him? 

"Ok class, meet up with your project partners for the remaining time and discuss the beginnings of your project plans."  
\---

"So I was thinking we do a Shakespearean sonnet." 

Billy was snapped out of his trance at the sound of Steve's voice. He quickly turned his head towards him, pupils suddenly dilating in the light flooding in from the windows. "W-wha-"

"Were you not paying attention? Mrs. Flemming assigned us as partners. Wake up, asshole," Steve whined, shoving Billy a little. The action was not something unusual for Steve to do or say, but it annoyed Billy slightly, making him groan and roll his eyes. 

"Listen princess, can we do this later? I'm not really in the mood to discuss sonnets." 

"But Mrs. Flemming told us to use the class time-"

"I don't really give a /shit/ about what Mrs. Flemming said. I have a headache. Is that alright with you?" Billy snapped back, abrasive and prickly. His mouth had a sour tang to it and it left a permanent scowl on his lips. Steve looked mildly hurt at such harsh words. His pink lips were downturned into a pout and his doe eyes seemed pained, confused at the sudden annoyance. "Why are you being such a dick?" Steve hissed back, trying to keep his voice low in case anyone overheard. Billy hadn't meant to be rude. He really hadn't. But his head was pounding and he couldn't focus and all he could see when he stared at Steve's face was the smile he pulled out for Samuel Fischer. Steve had never smiled for Billy like that before. So calm and sheepish and almost a little...a little…  
Embarrassed and shy. 

"Meet me in the library after school, ok? Promise, sweetheart?" Billy asked suddenly, no, desperately as he stood up, ready to leave the room before Steve could respond. The bell had rung and Billy was already down the hallway and Steve was left confused and frankly a bit pissed off.   
\---

Billy had not expected to see Steve in the library before him. He also wasn't expecting to see a boy, another random senior, Billy guessed, in front of Steve (towering over Steve). He couldn't actually hear the conversation, but it ended as soon as Billy appeared and the boy left abruptly, red and flushed in the face. Billy walked over to Steve quickly, swinging his backpack off and sitting down next to him. 

"What was that about?" 

"He was asking me for my number." 

Billy tasted sour curling in his mouth once more. "Wow, one day out of the closet and it's almost like you've got a neon sign above your head that says /I suck dicks/." The sentence came out harsher than intended, but Billy didn't regret it. 

"It was just one guy," Steve scoffed, opening up his book bag to pull out the assignment papers with instructions of the project on it. "Besides, you were the one who told me to come here." 

They carried on in silence for almost a full 4 minutes before Billy spoke. 

"Did you give it to him?" Billy couldn't look at Steve's face.

"What?" 

"Your number, dipshit." 

"Oh...why?" 

Billy didn't exactly have a valid reason as to why he was so concerned. He tried to come up with something, anything to explain his sudden nosiness.

"No, I didn't." Steve simply continued flittering through the pages of his book, not looking up at Billy. 

"Oh.."

"He's not my type." 

Type? He wasn't Steve's type? What was his type then? The boy before hadn't been too terrible looking. Tall and lean. Brown hair and brown eyes. Clean skin and pale complexion. The cogs in Billy's head began to turn. Was Samuel Fischer Steve's type? Steve certainly looked a bit smitten. Blondish hair and blue eyes, slightly tan and confident smile. 

"Can we focus please? I don't plan on working on this until midnight." Steve was irritated, yipping at him like an annoyed Chihuahua. It was slightly endearing. 

"Always the nagging wife," Billy hummed teasingly, much to Steve's chagrin and scoff. "Shut the fuck up and pick a damn sonnet." Steve huffed, cheeks slightly pink as he shoved the book into Billy's hands.  
\---  
They ended up staying there until closing time. They hadn't really gotten much work done, instead got wrapped up in a conversation about space and global warming and how inevitably, the world would become apocalyptic. ("I would eat you, ya know, before you turned into a zombie." Steve said and Billy laughed, "Aww, how sweet. I would eat you too.") 

They left when the sun began setting, a dusky and glowing aura in the air as they walked down the parking lot. The sky was illuminated in dark purples and pinks, making way for the blackness of night. Steve walked with him to Billy's car. 

"I can give you a ride." 

"Nah, I'll just take the bus." 

"It's almost 8:00 pm, all the crazies come out at night." 

"I can take care of myself, you know, I'm a big boy and everything." Steve looked down at his feet, then back up at Billy. The light was cast on his face, golden and shimmering and highlighting sharp features. Billy leaned against his car, arms crossed and head cocked, wicked smirk on his lips. It made Steve's chest hurt.

"Nah, princess. You need someone to take care of you." Billy drawled, dripping like honey and warm molasses. "It wouldn't be right of me to leave you all alone." 

Steve's cheeks heated up at the comment, turning his head and then staring back at Billy. His words were reminiscent of Billy trying to pick up girls. It wasn't the first time Billy's teased like this, made Steve feel smaller and weaker and almost fragile like china in his mother's cabinet. It wasn't the first time Steve felt warm and fluttery in his stomach at the comments. "Why do you do that?" He asked, voice wavering slightly in uncertainty. He was testing the waters. 

"Do what?" Billy smirked back, amused at the flustered state Steve was in. 

"Make me sound like I'm...like…" Steve couldn't find the words. 

"Cause you're mine, princess." 

The statement was a simple show of ownership that one would put on an object, a thing. It rolled off Billy's tongue as if it had no weight, no serious meaning. Billy had never been this direct with his jokes, had never taken it this far before. Naturally, Billy and Steve had their inside jokes, their routinely prodding and teasing at each other. But Steve didn't think that Billy was joking this time. The depth in his eyes, the way his pupils were dilated. No, this wasn't joking. 

Steve had always known Billy felt some type of...protectiveness over him. The way, perhaps, Billy was protective of Max or the way Steve was protective of the other kids. He deemed it normal, a result of constant abuse and trauma at the hands of a monster at home. He had forgiven Billy's bluntness and rough exterior because at his core, Steve knew Billy was genuinely concerned for his well-being. But this was different. This left Steve in a state of confusion. Was he to believe this was a serious and certain proclamation of possession or was this another joke, one that didn't land correctly and therefore lost all of it's comedic value. 

"Come on, get in the car and I'll take you home." Billy opened the passenger's side, waiting for Steve to climb in. 

"No, I'll um...I'll just take the bus." 

"I don't have all day, get in the fucking car." 

"It's fine, really, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"STEVE!"

It was uncommon for Billy to use Steve's real name, and vice versa. It was at this time that Steve knew, yes, Billy was serious, and yes, Steve should get in the car. Wordlessly, he slipped inside, letting Billy slam the metal door shut and come around the other side. The entire ride had left the two boys silent and uncomfortable. 

As they pulled up to Steve's house and driveway, Billy killed the ignition and his hand grip tightened on the wheel. For a moment, they were left silently sitting in the stationary car. 

"I meant what I said, ya know?" 

"...."

"You're mine, Harrington." 

"...."

The two never looked at each other. Steve unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly slid out of the car, closing the door and watching as Billy drove off.  
Steve needed a drink, or two, or three. Deep down, Steve knew Billy was right. Somewhere along the way, Billy had claimed ownership of Steve Harrington. It was subtle, unspoken touches, soft words, certain stares. They practically had their own secret language that they used and with one look, Steve knew exactly what Billy wanted to say. 

The statement was almost aggressive, threatening. It left Steve confused and wishing to just silence the questions in his head. What had it all meant? What was Billy's intentions with a proclamation like that? Had he intended to mess Steve up, use this as a continuation of their game of "house". Did he mean it, truly and honestly? Did it have certain emotions behind it? Possessiveness, jealousy, and dare Steve say, even affection? 

No. It was dangerous to think this way and Steve knew it. It was just Billy being Billy. This was all part of their game, their little quips and one-liners. It meant nothing more than what it meant on the surface. A friendship that was perhaps deeper than the others, but a friendship no less. Steve knew it was dangerous to think this way about a boy who, time after time, has lead him to believe nothing more than he's straight. Steve took his words with a grain of salt. Billy Hargrove wished to possess all around him. He craved the power and domination and Steve was just another pawn in his arena. Perhaps he saw people as things instead of people, and Steve just happened to be his favorite. 

Even this was too sinister of thought for the likes of Billy Hargrove. Steve was ashamed for even thinking such things, thinking the way all the others did, painting Billy as some kind of villain, some kind of manipulative monster. Steve knew better than that and Steve knew Billy truly meant what he said in the purest and kindest way. 

Almost like a child staking claim to their favorite toy. 

Steve laid down on his bed and closed his eyes, he wished for the lull of sleep, but all he could think of was the sound of honeyed words. 

/You're mine you're mine you're mine you're mine/


	5. Meet me in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are exchanged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Please comment if you think I should continue with this fic or end it here! Comment what you want to see more of for maybe a series of this story?? Thank you! ( ◜‿◝ )♡

Christmas came and went, but the snow stayed.  
The kids of Hawkins were delighted when the news informed them that all schools were closed due to the impending and tremendous amounts of snow. Steve's parents had come home, only to tell him that they were leaving for Miami in a week. They hated the snow and the cold and the bleakness and Steve wondered why they bothered coming home at all. They say quietly at the dinner table, each person wrapt in their own devices. Steve felt his pocket buzz and pulled out his phone to see a text from none other than Billy. Steve wondered how the Californian was enjoying the Winter. 

\--Billy (received):   
"It's so fucking cold my balls snapped off" 

Steve smirked, suppressing a chuckle as he typed back. 

\--Steve (sent):  
"Makes ya wish you were still in California, doesn't it?" 

\--Billy (received):   
"I promise you, Harrington. One of these days, imma take you, show you what you're missing ;)" 

The message had made Steve's stomach flutter and suddenly, he wasn't very hungry anymore. His father glanced up from his own phone and noticed his son staring intensely at his screen, tapping away, a smile growing on his face. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Steve's father cleared his throat. 

"Who are you talking to, son?" He asked, eyebrows cocked and eyes burning into Steve's skin. He fidgeted in his seat, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "It's no one," he mutters, taking his fork and pushing around the salad on his plate. "I'm not very hungry, I think I'm just going to go to bed." Steve stood from his seat, pushing out his chair and picking up his plate to take to the kitchen. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that he couldn't tell his own parents about Billy Hargrove, or that his parents didn't even bother to stop him as he climbed up the stairs to his room. 

Once his door closed, Steve plopped on his bed and whipped out his phone. With a tap and a swipe, Steve dialed Billy's number and put him on speaker. The dial tone broke and Steve was hit was a smooth voice.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite snow bunny~" Billy's voice was like a wave that crashed over Steve's entire body. Steve laughed and kicked his legs into the air, crossed at the ankles as he lay on his stomach. "Enjoying the cold, Hargrove?" 

"Fuck, I don't know how you live like this. It's like in the negative degrees." 

"Yeah, well don't worry. Summers in Hawkins will thaw you out." 

"Nah man, I'm telling you. Nothing beats California weather. It's like...the perfect temperature all year round. And if it even gets a little bit hot, we hit the beach." 

Steve hummed, closing his eyes as he laid his head down onto the bed. "California sounds nice." He muttered back, hugging the phone to his chest. 

"Well...it is nice. I plan on moving back after we graduate," Billy's voice crackled over the phone speaker. 

Steve's heart thrummed in his chest, his fingers tangling in his bed sheets and twisting in his grip. His body felt heavy, as if cinder blocks were tied to his limbs. His stomach gurgled and Steve knew if he were to throw up right there and then, it would only be bile. "Oh?" he replied, willing himself not to show his distress through his voice. 

"Yeah, I mean… I need to get some money first though and find a place that fits two people, somewhere near the beach, preferably." 

"Two people?" 

"I assume you consider yourself a person, Harrington" 

It had felt like Steve's heart skipped a beat or two. There was a lump in his throat that wouldn't go down as much as Steve tried to swallow it down. Steve sat up and stared at his phone screen, watching the seconds tick by as their conversation was left to silence. He couldn't form words. He couldn't will himself to say something...anything…

"Steve? You still there?" 

"Y-Yeah!" He squeaked. "Am I...are you asking me to come with you?" 

Now Billy was silent, if only for a second. His voice picked up again and Steve was hanging onto every word. "Well...I kinda assumed that was always the plan." 

"I don't know if...what about college?" 

"What about it?" 

"I didn't exactly apply to any schools in California."

The pauses in their conversation were deafening, a slow and painful kind of death and Steve wished he could be face to face with Billy right now, to see his face, to see how he was reacting. 

"I'd follow wherever you go, Harrington. College was never going to be for me anyways." A small chuckle came through. 

Steve didn't know what to say other than, "Can I see you tonight?"   
\---

Steve sat at one of back booths in the Ace Bar, the local watering hole of Hawkins where as long as you don't make a ruckus and don't get caught, minors were more or less ignored. His fingers traced the cracks of broken faux leather of the booth seats as he waited for Billy to appear. The men in the bar didn't care how much they smoked and who may care. The hazey air clouded Steve's sight and when a figure walked up to his side, he smiled wide at who he assumed was his friend. 

Steve's smile fell when he realized it certainly was not. In what was supposed to be Billy's place, stood a man taller than Steve, towering over him and cornering him into the booth. He was an older man, a biker or trucker most likely by the looks of it. He had tattoos running down his arms and a leather jacket that smelled of cigars and cheap cologne. His eyes were beady, staring down at Steve as if he were a doe and he was a hunter. He was like a pig, panting and sweating and squirming, teeth yellow and twisted. Steve gulped as he leaned forward, face to face as a mangled smirk grew. 

"Why aren't you a precious thing. Whatcha doing here all alone, darling?" He had a southern twang and it made Steve's stomach churn with disgust. 

"Fuck off asshat," Steve groaned, trying not to make eye contact as he reached down for his beer and take a sip. 

"Well! Little Missy has an attitude huh? Bet your mister likes that fire in ya." His breath smelled of alcohol and death. It made Steve's eyes water. 

"If you don't back the fuck up, I swear to god you'll regret it," Steve growled. He tried to puff up his chest, scowl on his lips, but it only made the man laugh. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Drop that tough act with me, Why don't you just slide into my lap and let me show you what a real man's like." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, hand reaching out to caress Steve's cheek and Steve's skin crawled. He wanted to take a shower hot enough to wash off the feeling across his body. Before Steve could open his mouth, the man was whipped around by his shoulder. He was on the floor in two seconds, a groan billowing out and standing over him was Billy, chest heaving and murder in his eyes.

Steve watched in horror as Billy growled and kicked at the man, kneeling on his chest and punching as hard as he could, letting the bones crunch under his force, blood splattering on his fist. Like a wild beast unchained, Billy threw punch after punch. Steve finally stood up and grabbed Billy's arm, "STOP! BILLY STOP IT!" He cried out, hugging his arm to his chest. 

Billy stumbled back, staring down at the man on the floor. Trying to catch his breath, Billy leaned downwards and spat on the man. Steve grabbed his coat and tugged it on as he dragged Billy outside into the parking lot. Once they were outside, Steve dropped Billy's arm and pivoted on his heel. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

"He was disgusting! Fucking pervert, you should've let me fucking kill him!" Billy screamed back, fumbling through his pockets to take out his crushed packet of cigarettes. 

"I could've fucking taken care of it! You didn't need to come in there like fucking hulk!" Steve huffed, walking down the parking lot towards the street, Billy following behind him. 

"Oh really?? You could've taken care of it?? What the fuck, you were seconds away from being-being raped or something!" 

Steve turned around so fast, it threw Billy off balance. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed. "What is wrong with you!!?? I can fucking take care of myself, B-" Steve couldn't finish his sentence as he was grabbed by the collar and pushed into the brick wall behind them, Billy pressing himself against Steve's body, his legs slotting in between the brunette's and making them spread slightly. Steve's lips quivered at the feeling of Billy's chest pressed against his, pupils blown and breath coming out in steamy puffs. They stared at each other, Billy's eyes switching between Steve's down to his lips and back. The light from the street lamps illuminated their faces, a soft yellow stream that made everything seem otherworldly.

"I told you before, Harrington, you're mine. I don't fucking like people touching things that are mine." Billy growled through clenched teeth, hand snaking up to Steve's neck, pressing down just enough to make Steve's knees buckle slightly. Steve scoffed slightly at the comment, "You're a fucking coward, Billy. If you want something, fucking take it." 

Billy's other hand shot up to take Steve's soft and silky hair in a deadly grip, which made the boy whimper as if he were a wounded animal. Billy pulled it back roughly, making Steve let delicious whines spill out. This didn't deter Steve as he stared Billy down, not letting the blonde intimidate him. Steve's hand crept up Billy's stomach, firm and steady as it climbed up Billy's chest, rubbing intimately. 

Chapped lips met plush ones. A kiss that burned like fire and bubbled like lava. Steve's lips tasted like over ripened fruits, sickly sweet and rotten. Like poison dripping down Billy's throat, addictive and heady. With the reliance of a soft mewl, Billy licked into Steve's mouth, tongues wet and slippery like snakes intertwining. Like alcohol, it warmed Billy's stomach. Kissing Steve was something that he could get lost in and never want to be found. 

As they pulled back from each other, a silver string of saliva connecting their lips, Billy and Steve remained panting. The brunette leaned his forehead into Billy's neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Billy's hands, calloused and strong, traced down Steve's sides, squeezing softly as he made it to his hips. They stayed like this, silent as the night lingered on. Billy's lips found Steve's neck, pressing kisses into soft skin. His facial hair tickled him slightly, making Steve let out soft sighs and giggles. In that moment, Billy didn't care if others saw them. He didn't care what anyone would say or think. In his heart of hearts, deep down at his core, he knew that Steve was never just a friend. He was a best friend, a soul mate, a lover, a confidant, a home. Lips found Steve's ear and soon Billy was whispering sweet indulgences that made sparks fly down Steve's spine. 

"My princess"  
"My love"  
"My darling"  
"My Steve" 

Perhaps the next day, they would go back to the way they once were, pretending as if nothing happened. Perhaps the next day, they'd be lovers, sharing kisses in the hallways. Perhaps the next day, they'd run away together, never looking back. No one knows what was in store for the two

For now, they had each other. That's the way they wished to keep it.   
\---

"You're mine, sweetheart."

"I've always been yours."


End file.
